


In Darkness I Follow You

by Nighthaunting



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Bondage, Corruption, Khadgar's bondage collar, M/M, Multi, Possession, Threesome - M/M/M, past Medivh/Khadgar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nighthaunting/pseuds/Nighthaunting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Sargeras took the opportunity to plant the seeds of corruption in Khadgar, and is finally seeing them come to fruit. Via Gul’dan’s dick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Darkness I Follow You

**Author's Note:**

> ’Medivh’ as he appears here can be interpreted as either ‘Sargeras was always Medivh’ or ‘Sargeras occasionally possessed Medivh to get to Khadgar’
> 
> Written for the kmeme prompt: Guldan unzips his zipper- “Drink, Khadgar. Claim your destiny.”
> 
> Title from 'Worship' by Years & Years

Khadgar shivered under Gul’dan’s gaze as the Orc smiled down at him. He was kneeling on the floor, bound and naked. His collar–kept out of sentiment more than anything, after all these years–was still around his neck, but was joined by another that dampened his magic. Khadgar felt vulnerable, but more than that he felt cold; the frissons of doubt running down his spine as the secrets he’d tried to bury in the past seemed to have all been exhumed for Gul’dan’s use. 

The Orc had already touched him, sliding fingers that were slick with things that Khadgar didn’t especially want to dwell on between his legs and spreading him open; the smoothed fel crystal Gul’dan had coaxed lovingly into him, the knowing pause each time Khadgar had tried to stifle a noise–and even though it had been so long it was _painfully_ easy to imagine another pair of hands, much loved, doing this–as the crystal’s girth filled him. Khadgar might be cut off from the use of his powers, but his sensitivity to the flow of magic was unimpeded and he could feel the fel energy radiating through him already, ringing hot and sharp; struck notes on bells, resonating with Khadgar’s own power and tuning oh-so-sweetly stronger. 

Gul’dan leaned forward in his seat, “My Master told me about you, Khadgar,” he whispered, and Khadgar knew. 

He was lightheaded already, the fel working its influence on him, and more; waking things that he’d tried to deny. Memories of Medivh near the end. Magic he’d never seen before, spun out between his Master’s hands. His Master beckoning, and the force as he raised his own hands and channeled it as well, until his vision blurred and darkness stole him away. He’d fainted, his Master had told him later, but Khadgar’s hands had been freezingly numb and he felt as though the world had been veiled in shadow until a spell had sent him off to sleep; the power still resonating within him somehow, as though it were a bell that had been rung and could never be silenced. 

“Or perhaps,” Gul’dan continued, voice barely a hot breath against Khadgar’s neck, “I should say _our_ Master.”

He’d recognized that magic in Medivh at the very end; not power that was Medivh’s own but the power that possessed him, belonging to the one who was possessing him. Khadgar had felt it like radiance when he stood against his Master, and when it was over he’d felt its absence like an ache, his own tiny shard of it pulsing in his throat and choking him with a near-longing; like calling to like, power recognizing its source. He’d stifled that longing mercilessly, strangled the echoes of the Dark Titan’s power until they quieted; horror filling the emptiness, to know how he’d been compromised. 

“He’s missed you, Khadgar _,”_ the words struck like blows, Gul’dan grinning as he delivered each one, and Khadgar couldn’t help but shiver. The heat of the fel rising in him warring with the ice crushing around his heart; that all he’d tried to outrun had caught him at last. 

“You know the Master never lets go,” Gul’dan says, leaning back slightly, clawed fingers stroking Khadgar’s face carefully. The barest brush of a thumbnail lingering on the plushest part of Khadgar’s lower lip, and he tells himself that it’s the discomfort that makes him gasp and part his lips slightly but he knows the truth; and more, he knows what will happen next. 

Gul’dan’s tattered robe is open, his cock thick and hard already. He hooks his fingers through the heavy ring on Khadgar’s collar and tugs, gently. Khadgar goes, head dipping forward. There is more than just a shred of Sargeras’ power living in Gul’dan, and Khadgar can feel it calling out to its lesser twin within himself just like he can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

“Drink, Khadgar. Claim your destiny,” Gul’dan croons as Khadgar closes his mouth around the head of Gul’dan’s cock. 

He is decades out of practice, but he remembers quickly. Khadgar sucks gently, sliding forward to take as much of Gul’dan as he can in his mouth before pulling back. He breathes out against the slicked flesh and surrenders to the call of the power within him, feeling the fel energy empowering it, and beyond that; feeling the fel crystal hot inside him, shifting slightly as he moves and drawing soft moans from him. Khadgar runs his tongue against the thick vein running along the shaft of Gul’dan’s cock and the beads of precum that well out of the head are as green as fel. 

Khadgar sets his mouth on the crown of Gul’dan’s cock and suckles them greedily, the taste like fire and mana on his tongue, as Gul’dan groans deeply and curls a hand through Khadgar’s hair, pulling with just enough pressure to make his wishes known. Khadgar moves for him, taking as much as he can into his mouth. His hands are tied to the same rope that keeps him on his knees, and he tugs uselessly at the binds, keening. Gul’dan leaves a hand in his hair and uses the other to reach forward and tug on Khadgar’s collar again, making the mage moan and open his mouth wider, taking Gul’dan’s cock deep into his throat. 

At some point Khadgar had let his eyes close, concentration and awareness settling on the cock in his mouth and the heat between his legs, the feel of his own cock hard and leaking against his belly. The pressure of the rope holding him and his collar heavy around his neck weighing him down to his body. He knows, absently, how foolish it was to keep the collar on, but in his nostalgia-hazed perceptions it had seemed innocuous enough, a reminder of the past, a comfort, but still, he realizes, an advertisement of his weakness for being bound. 

Gul’dan rolls his hips and Khadgar has to draw back to breathe, his mouth feeling swollen already, eyes heavy-lidded when he opens them. Gul’dan’s cock leaks steadily with precum, and Khadgar closes his mouth around the head, the taste filling his mouth as he laves his tongue down the shaft to catch every drop. Gul’dan is crooning words at him, but Khadgar can’t understand them, his focus drawn away to the muscles that tense in Gul’dan’s thighs, the way his hands fist in Khadgar’s hair and around his collar, dragging Khadgar forward and forcing his cock down Khadgar’s throat. The come he spills into Khadgar’s mouth burns, but Khadgar swallows it, the taste of fel coating his tongue as he suckles at Gul’dan’s cock until his climax is spent. 

Khadgar’s throat is sore when he leans back, his mouth bruised. He can feel the fel buzzing in his head; the shard of Sargeras’ power inside him absorbing it and becoming stronger; heat prickling over his skin; unsatisfied arousal and magic coursing through his veins. He wants _more_ , and Gul’dan’s face is smug and satisfied to see a rival fallen, to see a fellow apprentice on their knees unable to deny the Master. 

Something in Gul’dan’s expression shifts, carefully, to reverence. There is a gust of hot breeze, the sound of wings fluttering, the feel of magic shaping itself–a pattern Khadgar _knows_ deep within his own bones, of a form he‘s taken himself a thousand times–and suddenly there are hands resting themselves on Khadgar’s shoulders. The power in him sings, and Khadgar knows whose hands they are. He knows the body that leans against his back, the mouth that kisses his neck just above his collar.

“ _Master_.” 

It comes out as a sob, tears spilling down his cheeks as he turns his head. Medivh looks just as he did when Khadgar last saw him, but his eyes burn with dark fire. Khadgar wants to say more, his lips forming words, but his Master quiets him, kissing his bruised lips. He doesn’t speak, but he brushes away Khadgar’s tears and understanding blooms in Khadgar’s mind, that his Master has always been his Master. 

Khadgar melts into the kiss, and keens when his Master breaks it. Medivh–or Sargeras, or both tangled together in one form, Khadgar isn’t sure–nods at Gul’dan, acknowledgment and a command in one. Khadgar wants to protest when Gul’dan gently cups his face and turns him back to his hardening cock, but his Master grips the base of the fel crystal inside him and tugs, sliding it partially out before pushing it back in, and Khadgar can’t help but moan. Gul’dan brushes the head of his cock against Khadgar’s mouth and Khadgar opens for him, moaning around the thickness in his mouth as his Master pulls the fel crystal all the way out of him. 

He feels bereft at the loss of the crystal for a moment before his Master’s hands are on Khadgar’s hips, holding him still so he can replace the crystal with his cock. Medivh doesn’t stop until he’s flush against Khadgar’s back, chin resting on Khadgar’s shoulder as he turns his head to kiss his way along Khadgar’s jaw; working around Gul’dan’s cock in his mouth. 

Medivh draws back, letting himself slip nearly out of Khadgar and then thrusting into him harshly, rocking Khadgar forward and forcing him to swallow more of Gul’dan. Gul’dan’s hands fall away from Khadgar to rest on his thighs, Medivh taking a firm grip on Khadgar’s collar and using it to direct Khadgar how he pleased, never relenting in his own thrusts and making Khadgar moan helplessly at being so firmly handled. 

Khadgar barely lasts through Gul’dan’s second climax, swallowing down every drop spent into his mouth before the feel of Medivh inside him and the weight of his Master’s hand on his collar–the collar his Master had given him, so long ago–drives him into his own. 

Medivh wraps an arm around Khadgar, pulling him away from Gul’dan and firmly into his embrace. The hand on Khadgar’s hip tightens, and Medivh’s other hand spreads flat against Khadgar’s chest, just above the place where Khadgar can feel Sargeras’ power. Medivh’s climax feels like a hammerblow of power being driven into him. It feels like the first time his Master channeled strange magic through him, leaving scraps of influence behind. Khadgar writhes, Medivh’s hand sliding up his chest to grab him by the throat and hold him as Khadgar’s magic warps and twists inside him, the fel energy boiling through his veins and threading itself into his magic irreversibly, the black magic webbing out from the swollen core of Sargeras’ power within him like veins from a heart. 

Distantly, Khadgar hears himself scream, feels Medivh’s hands on the second collar meant to dampen his magic undoing the claps and tearing it from his neck. The rush of his power returning to his grasp–changed and strange, but so familiar–is enough to sweep Khadgar from consciousness, his last thought the absolute knowledge that his Master will have left more claim on him than a simple collar by the time he wakes.

While he sleeps, Khadgar dreams of fire and raven’s wings.


End file.
